


She

by theHighJustice



Category: The Host - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, RIP Can Opener
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18547921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theHighJustice/pseuds/theHighJustice
Summary: Kyle and Ian had gotten used to being alone, until they foundit.





	She

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite and repost of an old fic
> 
> Also, I don't own The Host, but I kinda wish we would implement their money practices....or lack thereof.

** Chapter One **

_O'Shea_

 

* * *

 

“Ian! Ian, wake up!” Kyle barked. Ian didn’t move where he was sprawled on top of the dusty mattress. With a curse, Kyle threw himself across the room as quickly and quietly as he could manage and crouched down beside it, becoming mostly hidden from the closed door’s line of sight. With an impatient grab, Kyle reached over the bed to curl his rough hand around Ian’s leg. Taking a grunting breath, Kyle yanked his disoriented brother to the ground. As one, the two were sent prostrate over the floor, before Kyle managed to scramble back into Ian’s space and placing a hand over his mouth to stop any sound. Less than a minute passed before Ian was shoving the hand away, breathing silently, though his chest heaved. Kyle simply put the hand on Ian’s chest, warning him to stay down. His heart was thundering in his chest; he could feel it pounding against the dust ridden carpet beneath him. Just underneath the bed, Kyle could see their packs, ready as always, to be drawn out for a quick getaway.

It was only three in the morning. Kyle had been awake for quite some time before he heard them. The parasites weren't even trying to keep quiet, evidently not expecting to find anyone inside. It was an old hotel, abandoned after they'd managed to wipe out the human population. Kyle and Ian were familiar with it themselves. Their father had lived inside this building for years after their parents' divorce. When they were young, the visits had been frequent, but then their mom died and Kyle had been left to take care of Ian.

“How many?” Ian asked on a whispered breath.

“I don't know. Sounded too close to take a look outside. We're gonna have to take the window.”

“Fuck.” Ian swallowed and eyed the broken pane. “We're three floors up.”

“Three floors or a worm in your brain. Take your pick,” Kyle snapped. At the same moment, he grabbed for their packs, dropping one on top of Ian's chest. “There's a balcony on the floor below us. We can drop down and climb the rest of the way.”

Ian moved first, grabbing at the pack on his chest to loosen the rope tied onto the arm strap. Kyle moved to do the same, unwinding the rope and sitting up to take a fast glance at the door. It was closed and locked, but once the parasites found out, it would take them no time at all to get through it. Together, the brothers headed over to the window, dropping the packs outside one by one before they lowered them down with the worn ropes.

Kyle let Ian climb out first, holding Ian's left arm in his grasp. When Ian grasped the ledges of the wall, he waved Kyle off and moved over as he climbed down sufficiently enough before he let go. He landed quietly, having been wearing only his worn socks. It reminded Kyle that they'd need to find someplace to pick up more supplies.

He followed Ian as well, after giving it some thought and removing his own shoes. The climb down the remaining two floors went the same way, except they didn't have another balcony to drop into. It was slower progress, but by the time they reached the ground and ducked into the rose bushes below, there were flashlights being shone out the window.

Instead of immediately heading for their truck, they left their packs and hid near the front to keep an eye out for when the parasites departed. It was a half hour or more before the pack of them returned to the front doors. There were six of them, walking perfectly side by side as they spoke in low voices. As they all headed to the three mirrored cars parked just behind a batch of trees (hidden enough that they weren't noticed), Kyle and Ian departed back to their own truck. They waited five minutes and let the truck roar to life, before it shrank back into relative silence.

Kyle drove and Ian grabbed the stack of maps from the back of the truck. Unfolding the one at the top, he located the last circled spot, where it was dated the day they'd located the hotel. While Ian had complained of having to do things the old fashioned way, he was the best at reading the maps and Kyle downright refused to use a GPS, as they usually contained trackers, especially since the alien takeover. Some of the places Kyle and Ian settled were empty enough that it would raise suspicion if some search showed them out in the middle of nowhere.

“We're still near two hundred fifty miles out,” Ian concluded after a moment. “Just outside of Winterhaven. We get back on I-8, we'll be there just before sunrise.”

Kyle cursed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, but checked his speed at Ian's glance.

“We can't get into Aunt Ruth's storage until dark.”

“I still don't think it's a good idea.” At the grimace Kyle shot him, Ian shook his head in exasperation. “Kyle it's been damn near ten years. By now, the worms have likely taken over places like that; thrown out whatever was there. Especially Aunt Ruth's guns. Besides that, what are we supposed to do against a planet full of worms with only the two of us and a highly limited arsenal?”

“Whatever the fuck we can,” Kyle snapped. “I'm not afraid of them and they're hunting us whether we're shooting whatever ones we come across or not.” He paused, took a breath, and shot a halting look at Ian before turning back to the road. “It's not just about the guns.”

And it was left at that.

* * *

They got to Tuscon just as the sun was peaking above the desert in the distance. Kyle pulled over into a parking lot, away from the other cars, just in case. It was a Super Mart and it was the best place to find as many supplies as they could stock up on. Ian was rifling through his bag, grumbling to himself as he pulled out the small, white container. Kyle snickered at the look on his face as he opened the left and right caps.

“Shut up.”

He stuck the first lens into his eye, immediately closing it as the sting took over. Ian hadn't had the proper equipment to keep them sanitized and the burn had become something familiar when they went on these runs. Even better, Ian thought Kyle was such a Neanderthal that he made all the trips inside to pick up their things. Of course, Kyle was able to go along when it was bright enough outside to warrant sunglasses. Kyle watched as Ian lifted a hand, absentmindedly, to feel for the scar that would further convince the parasites inside of his possession.

While Ian exited the truck and headed toward the open doors of Super Mart, Kyle leaned back his seat as far as it would go, dropping down out of the window's view. Closing his eyes, Kyle's mind began to drift, taking him back to memories that kept him from sleeping at night.

They had been alone, as usual, when the takeover began. There was no big bang, no whisper in the news about something coming, because there had been no _warning_. Kyle and Ian hadn't known what to make of it when their neighbors would just come home different. It was odd to see the change, know something was different, but never able to get a close enough look to be sure. The first one they’d met, though they hadn’t known it at the time, had been the mother of one of Ian’s friends. Ian had gone across the street, like he usually did, to get their school mate to go down to the courts for a game of one-on-one. The two had made a habit of it, but Kyle had never gone with them. No, he'd decided to go that time, because he didn’t care for the strange way the kid never came out of the house anymore. Ian thought nothing of it, because the kid was supposed to be some kind of genius working his way to getting into some Ivy League school on a full scholarship.

Kyle just couldn't trust his brother to use his common sense.

He hadn't even crossed the street. Kyle hung back, leaning against the rail of their front porch, watching while Ian knocked on the door. It took some time to open, but before it did, Kyle was watching the windows. As Ian had knocked, the curtains on the second floor had twitched open, then it was grabbed and shoved aside so violently that the cloth was still settling when the pale, dark-eyed figure on the other side started banging on the window. Kyle barely recognized him because of the dark circles around his eyes and the darkness inside the room. His eyes were wide, mouth opening in shouts that Kyle couldn't hear, but no matter how hard he banged his fists against the window, he never made a move to open it or leave his room.

What made his decision hadn't been the kid, though his panic had unnerved Kyle more than he wanted to admit. Their neighborhood was a bad one and there was bad all around, always. Generally, you turned the other way when asked for help. But when Kyle noticed that those were the words the kid was forming, he glanced sharply away and rested his eyes intensely on the door that was opening in the front of Ian. He was already talking to the woman that'd answered the door, certainly the kid's mother, but he wouldn't have recognized her if he hadn't been looking so steadily.

She had certainly cleaned up.

The last time Kyle had seen the woman, she’d carried all the appearance of a woman strung out on _something_. Having never cared to find out what, he’d just turned away, especially when he noticed men turning up at her house that he _knew_ weren’t on the up and up. The woman was a disaster, her hair uncouth and unclean, hanging around her face like straw and moving like it, too. Her eyes had been sunken in pools of black, blue and purple, like she hadn't slept in years; body frail and thin, as she lost more weight on her fixes than she bothered to put on. On top of that, back then, I'd been very sure that the long gray gown she'd worn had not been off her body in many, many months.

But now, she stood tall, her smile kind and her eyes were without the raccoon holes to put them off. Her hair was pulled back into a bun like one of those ladies from the bad white-picket-fence suburban neighborhood commercials constantly on the TV selling one thing or another. Her clothes were elegant and looked brand new, though Kyle knew the type of money she made wouldn’t be enough to buy her another fix, let alone a brand new, possibly name-brand, suit. His decision had possibly, though he’d deny it, had something to do with the way Ian tensed and stepped back as she lay eyes on him, though his manners wouldn’t let him just walk away.

As Kyle called Ian back with a sharp tongue, he'd glanced back up and the kid was still leaning against the window pane desperately. Ian, on the top stair, had turned to look at him. With him, the woman stepped from the house and stood with him, smiling her plastic smile. At that same moment, a cloud moved away from the sun and lit brilliantly against her face. In the quick nanosecond it had taken her to direct her gaze to the ground, Kyle was sure he’d seen them light up, like a _fucking flashlight_. He made a sharp gesture to Ian and he made his way down immediately. When he looked inquisitive, Kyle had shaken his head and just turned away, while Ian's etiquette forced him to turn and shout a good-bye to the weird woman the addict mother had become.

Kyle had personally seen addicts and he knew it was very possible to get better. But it didn’t happen just like that. It wasn’t a switch to be fucking flipped whenever you felt like it. So whatever that woman was selling, he certainly wasn’t buying.

What followed had cemented Kyle's hatred of them. There was no way else to describe it. It was a burning – a slow, _angry_ burn – that followed him, day in and day out while the world kept on spinning. It seemed almost traitorous, the way Earth had so easily accepted the reign of the parasites that lived in the minds and bodies of people who used to be human. Earth hadn’t fought it, nature hadn’t fought it and the humans were so busy looking the wrong direction that they never even _considered_ turning a new way. By the time anyone was able to see the shit storm that had befallen them, it was far too late.

Kyle's eyes snapped open at a sharp knock on his window. Ian stood there, the redness of his irritated eyes not matching the smirk he wore on his lips. Kyle scowled back and stepped from the truck, keeping his back to the populated parking lot. Together, he and Ian loaded the bed and got back on the road.

“We've got no place to stay. This area is far too populated to go unnoticed for long.”

“We're heading into the desert until nightfall. We can make the trip back when it's dark.”

“You mean, _you_ can,” Ian retorted.

“I'm not leaving you out in the middle of nowhere alone. We are going and you're going to shut up and like it.”

Ian shot Kyle a sideways glance, but looked back at the road stretching in front of them without a word.

* * *

They'd reached a falling shack near four miles outside of town, but barely considered far into the enormous desert. Usually, they wouldn't have bothered with the place, but Ian had spotted one of the bold labels the parasites excelled in. The label read abandoned in thick, black letters and was dated just a few weeks beforehand. It was a similar message to those that had adorned the outside of every building the two had settled in.

Ultimately, Kyle decided it was the best they would get and it was a far better option than trying to find a strategically hidden place to hide out in the desert. Their truck was even obscured here, taking its place just underneath a half fallen awning they'd had to lift, push and pull over the rest of the truck.

While the sky grew brighter, then darker overhead, Kyle was able to get the first look at the loot from the Super Mart. As usual, all they had were not perishables, most of which were in boxes for easier access, but the cans of fruit and beans Ian had chosen were accompanied by a brand new can opener. Their last one (with crimson red handles) had been sacrificed in prying open a stuck window weeks ago.

Their meal consisted of a can of apple pie filling and graham crackers.

Now, with the sky growing darker, they could just begin to make out the stars in the distance. Ian had been pointing out pieces of constellations at one point, but Kyle had known shit all about the stars and didn't care to learn much more. When he'd relayed the same message to Ian, his brother had only snorted, muttered a “Not that it'll do any good,” and fallen back into silence.

“I'd kill for a cigarette right now.”

“Yeah, well, next time you should do the shopping.”

“Whatever,” Kyle grunted, picking himself up from where he'd rested back against the exposed edge of the truck. “We can probably get going now. By the time we make it back to town, it'll be dark enough to go unnoticed.” 

“Wait a minute,” Ian said, his voice suddenly a whisper. “Did you hear that?”

Kyle hadn't, but he stopped to listen, holding his breath while his fists clenched at his side.

There were footsteps, making their way over the dry, cracking ground. Kyle and Ian shared a look and both began to make their way, silently, to either side of the shack. Kyle kept his ears open, as the dark wouldn't allow him to see anyone approach. The steps grew hesitant the closer they got and the sound of the steps changed once they'd stepped up onto the meager porch, just outside the open doorway. When the steps began to pick up into a slow jog, rushing for the doorway, Kyle stopped just at the edge of the wall concealing him from the front. Then, the steps rushed inside and a body thudded into a wall.

Almost simultaneously, Kyle and Ian began to make their way up onto the porch, keeping clear of the open windows with the broken glass. They met at the gaping doorway, Kyle lifting a silent hand in the air as he counted on his fingers. When he ticked down to one, Ian snapped to his feet and reached inside. In the following seconds, there was a cry, Ian jerked back, pulling with him a girl, who stumbled over the threshold and fell to the ground.

Ian reached down to hold her shoulders, unmoved by the struggles and the cries still resounding from her. There was no chance of being heard here. Kyle reached into his picket, feeling for the thin flashlight he kept on hand. Not a moment later, the beam was shining down into the wide blue eyes, punctuated harshly by a silver glare beaming back up at them.


End file.
